Plagued: The Midamerica Zombie Half-Breed Experiment (Plagued States of America) (9 page)

Twenty-Three

Tom felt selfish for falling asleep. The light of dawn woke him and he realized they survived the night unscathed.

The plan Peske had concocted was simple enough. Split into two groups. The first would go to the generator to get it started while the second would go to the control tower. Rick volunteered to lead the team responsible for the generator with Mike to show the way and two of the visitors who knew enough about engines to be of use. They had to go on foot. The duck was too loud, Peske said. It would wake all the zombies hiding in the buildings. The thought of it didn’t make anyone comfortable, least of all those going to the generator. That would make a lot of noise once it was turned on, after all, so everyone on that team carried a zombie pole and a three gallon can of diesel. Mike slung a loaded canister gun with several extra shots. Peske broke out a pair of walkie-talkies.

“You call us,” Peske told Mike while giving him a radio. “I don’t want to squawk you and give up where you’re hiding if you run into any biters. Call as soon as you get there, when you’ve got it running, and on your way back.”

“I know the drill,” Mike said while making sure the radio was turned off. He clipped it to the strap of the canister gun across his chest.

The other group took the three remaining poles, one of which Peske used on Penelope. Hank and David took the other two. The kinds of weapons everyone else was left with were a couple baseball bats and two oars from the rowboat.

They walked over as a group, which felt even more eerie given how foreign the world around them seemed. There were no noises of city life like Tom was accustomed, nor the constant sound of the duck’s engine groaning along the highway, its wheels humming loudly over the road, the rattle of loose things everywhere. The only things making noise were birds, and they wailed as though lamenting emptiness.

“I’ve never heard birds like that,” one of the visitors said softly.

“Ain’t birds,” Pe
ske replied at a whisper.

“What is it, then?” the visitor asked.

“The children,” Peske replied. “The hungry ones.” It wasn’t the kind of statement that helped inspire courage in this situation, Tom thought. He coughed softly and glowered at Peske. Peske sighed, knowing what Tom wanted. “Don’t worry about the babies. They don’t hunt. It’s like they’re blind or deaf or something. They all cluster around in the trees by day and go out on the runway by night. Stay outside in the sunlight. Don’t go into any buildings. The adults hide inside by day.”

“But you’re going into the tower,” the visitor pointed out. Tom was thinking the same thing.

“Crazy, huh?” Peske said with a grin. “And you thought you got the raw deal, didn’t you?”

The road between the trees was wide enough for an aircraft to taxi through, giving them a long field of vision. The airstrip they had spent the night on was much smaller than the actual air base, which had two runways instead of one. As they passed the trees, several buildings surrounding the airstrip
came into sight.

“Good luck,” Peske told Mike and the small team of four kept walking across the airstrip. “The tower’s this way,” Peske added, giving Penelope a prod toward a side road between several two-story brick buildings. Penelope stared toward the trees. Tom felt nervous thinking something was in there watching them. Something only Penelope could see or hear or smell.

The buildings they passed were barracks and offices. The brick had the weeping appearance of neglect, the painted sills chipped and dulled, and several windows were broken out. The group walked up the street tighter than Tom thought was warranted given how silent the place was. Deserted was a better word for it. Where were the signs of zombie occupation? Nothing was burned out or destroyed, no decaying carcasses lying about, no random scat in the road.

They came to the base of the control tower to find its door wide open. Penelope growled ten feet away and Peske stopped.

“Here, Tom, hold Kitty,” Peske said as he nudged Penelope up next to Tom. Tom leaned back, but tried not to step away. He didn’t want to let on how frightened Penelope made him. She didn’t look at Tom. Instead, she growled softly, baring her teeth toward the door. “Just hold her hand a second to calm her down,” Peske went on, loosening her noose. Tom reluctantly took her hand and she snapped her attention in his direction, glaring at the touch. “She likes you,” Peske said, slapping a pair of handcuffs over Penelope’s and Tom’s wrists in one quick move. “You three stay here and make sure she doesn’t kill him,” Peske told a few of the visitors. Hank and Dave smiled as they advanced for the door. “You three with the ropes come with us.”

Tom was rigid with fear. He forgot to let go of Penelope’s hand. She didn’t let go of his. She stood facing him, staring up at him, her eyes in line with his neck. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat racing or see his veins pumping in his neck.

Peske led the others in through the open door.

“What if zombies come out?” Tom asked Penelope. She let out a soft, long, guttural growl that rumbled in the back of her throat like thunder. “Well, that’s easy for you to say,” Tom said, hearing the tension in his voice.

“Behind you,” Hank’s alarmed voice called from inside the building. “Put him down, put him down,” they heard Peske mutter. “Tie that one up, quick,” Hank snarled. “Get a muzzle on him.” Their voices were urgent but measured, and when their words died out, the concern everyone outside had about events grew. Time dragged on slowly. It wasn’t long before the three men with Tom were discussing that maybe they should go find the other four, or go to the duck, or do something. Their argument came at a heated whisper. Finally Tyler appeared in the doorway and everyone lifted a weapon, expecting him to be a zombie.

“Hank says get in here,” Tyler told them. “We’re going to barricade the door.”

They had caught three zombies, tied them up, gagged and muzzled them, and shoved each in an old office. One of the visitors who had gone in with Tyler was watching the offices. Hank and Dave were moving a huge desk across the room. Tyler went up the stairs, motioning for Tom to follow. Penelope hissed over Tom’s shoulder toward the three zombies as he led her across the room.

They could see everything from the tower, even the other terminal building with the duck parked under the concourse tunnel. “Look at that, will you?” Peske said, pointing out a figure jogging from the tree line toward the duck. “Looks like one of your kind, Kitty.”

Tom came close to the tower windows and squinted to make out the figure.

“You sure it’s not one of the others?” Tom asked.

“No, I just saw them right over there,” Peske said, pointing the other way. He held a pair of binoculars to Tom. “Take a look for yourself.”

The figure was definitely that of a human, someone who was quick and curious. He would have thought them to be a human survivor if not for the paleness of their skin.

“I found the books,” one of the others said, pulling out giant black books from a cabinet under one the control panels. Tom kept watching the other half-breed as Peske went to learn about the controls.

“We’re here,” Peske’s radio squawked. It was Mike’s voice. “We’re going to have to clean the area. Weeds everywhere. Give us ten.” Peske swore at the news. It didn’t matter, though. No one knew how to turn anything on in the control tower anyway. Everyone started pouring through the black books to find operating instructions. Their general banter went on as Tom watched the other half-breed climb onto the duck, look around, and climb into the concourse tube. Tom wondered if the other half-breed would find Carrie’s body and, if so, would
he eat it? Tom put the binoculars down and looked at Penelope. She was staring out at the airfield in wide wonder. This was a new experience for her, being this high, being able to see everything like a bird. What the scientists said about a person’s memories after infection was true. Empty as the day they were born. Everything had to be learned again, experienced as though it were the first time.

“Where should we look to find Larissa?” Tom whispered into her ear.
She sighed, her eyes looking at him sidelong as her arm rose with an extended finger, pointing into the wailing forest. He expected as much, but was that fear in her eyes, or pity, he wondered? “Great,” Tom replied. “Do you remember what she looks like?”

She nodded, unclenching her fist to show him the picture still rolled tightly in her palm.

“What about the other half-breeds?” Tom asked. Penelope nodded toward the window, sweeping her hand across the whole expanse.

“Great,” Tom thought aloud. “Everywhere, huh?”

Penelope only nodded, looking out toward the trees, still fascinated.

Twenty-Four

He wasn’t sure why, but Tom expected more than just a small blip noise and one red, blinking light on a console unit to tell him power was restored. He expected lights to come on everywhere, alarm noises, and all kinds of computer fans to whir. Instead, the squawk of Mike’s drowned out voice erupted through the two-way radio. “It’s running. We’re going to make sure it doesn’t die, then come back.”

“You two,” Hank said, pointing at a couple
of visitors. “Go down and keep an eye out for them.”

As a group there were several arguments over which book should be used first to start the equipment. There were several devices that all needed to be brought online. No one could figure out the order of things. Hank finally just started pressing in circuit breakers on the wall and flipping switches on consoles. The noise of all the devices started to sound a little more like civilization, a comforting thing for Tom.

“This is the radio system here,” Hank told them all. “Concentrate on finding the book for it.”

“I’ve got it here,” one of the visitors said and Hank ushered him over to get the thing working. The pages were irritably detailed, causing Hank to reach over and change pages after scanning them, pressing buttons randomly. “There,” Hank said finally. “Don’t touch it. Right there. Press that.”

The speakers in the room buzzed with the noise of some kind of military radio channel. Tom felt Penelope duck beside him, looking up with confusion. They heard voices speaking, talking about directions and elevations and approaches.

“It’s alright,” Tom told her, kneeling down beside her.

“Kid, get over here,” Hank said excitedly, motioning for Tom. Tom gently tugged Penelope by the hand, bringing her from her frightened crouch. He pulled her across the room and sat in the radio console chair, a microphone in front of him. Penelope crouched beside him, half under the desk. “Go,” Hank insisted, pressing a button.

“Um,” Tom started, trying to remember what words he should be saying. “Mayday!” he announced. “Mayday, mayday. This is Scott Air Force Base, Midamerica calling. Can anyone hear me?”

Hank released the button and there was a moment of silence not only from everyone in the room, but also in the radio speakers.

“Please confirm, Midamerica,” a voice answered through the radio and everyone cheered. Hank quieted them, pressing the button again.

“Mayday. This is Midamerica. We need urgent evacuation. My name is Tom Jefferson. I am the son of Senator William Jefferson, Colorado Districts.”

“Jefferson!?” Peske asked in disbelief.

“Shut up,” Hank snarled, taking his finger off the button.

“You’re a God damned Jefferson? Son of a…”

“Would you shut up?” Hank insisted.

“Midamerica, copy,” the radio announced. “Please confirm your last statement.”

“Will you shut up this time?” Hank asked Peske, pressing the button. “Go, kid.”

“This is Midamerica again,” Tom said into the microphone. “We need evacuation. Immediately. My name is Tom Jefferson. I am the son of Senator William Jefferson of Colorado. I was visiting Biter’s Hill two days ago when it was attacked. We managed to escape and are at Scott Air Force Base and need a rescue team sent at once. We have,” Tom began to say, then did the math in his head quickly, “fourteen survivors.” Was that right, he wondered?

Again there was silence on both ends of the line.

“You’re a Jefferson,” Peske said, sounding disappointed. Tom only shrugged. No sense trying to defend himself for anything his father had done. No sense explaining.

“Midamerica,” another voice came on the radio. “This is Captain Frank Smith. Who am I speaking with?”

“Tom Jefferson. Son of Senator William Jefferson. My District Pass number is 54388A7. Call my father to confirm.”

“Midamerica, standby.”

And they did for what seemed an eternity. Tom looked over his shoulders at everyone pressed close. Penelope looked like a confused puppy, her head sideways as she stared at the blinking lights all around her.

“Midamerica, do you copy?”

“Yes, we’re here,” Tom said into the mic.

“We have confirmation. A rescue team is being scrambled. ETA is forty minutes,” Captain Smith said and everyone cheered again. They were so loud Tom couldn’t hear what else was being said. He swore he heard the captain saying more.

“We didn’t catch all that,” Tom said into the radio. The others grew silent.

“We have confirmation. A rescue team is being scrambled. ETA is forty minutes,” the captain repeated.

Another squawk from the handheld caught everyone’s attention. They turned collectively toward the other end of the room, dead silent, looking at the hand-held radio Peske left there. Peske moved to the radio, picking it up.

“Did you hear that?” Peske asked everyone. Hank nodded as he turned down the volume to the tower radio.

“John, do you copy?” Mike’s voice asked softly, cutting through their silence, a moaning coming with his voice.

“Copy,” Peske said.

“John, we got ambushed,” Mike replied with dread. “Oh, shit!” The radio went silent.

“Mike?” Peske whispered into the radio. “Mike, I’m here. Copy?” he asked again, his voice urgent as he moved to the windows of the control tower to look across the airstrip toward the area he knew the generator to be. “Mike? Where are you?” he whispered.

Everyone remained silent. The tower radio continued to carry voices of pilots and other controllers, but Hank turned the volume as quiet as he dared.

“Come on,” Peske said to Tom while grabbing him by the collar. Peske stuffed the radio into Hank’s hand. “Listen for Mike and the others.”

“I’m coming too,” Hank announced.

“You stay here and keep these knuckleheads safe,” Peske replied. “I’ll find them.”

“He stays too,” Hank replied, pointing at Tom.

“I need her to help me find them,” Peske told Hank, pointing at Penelope. “And I left the keys on the duck.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tom replied. He was stuck chained to her?

“I wish I were,” Peske replied, marching across the control tower for the stairs.

“I’ll go with them,” Tyler said, grabbing a zombie pole and following. “Me too,” said another man.

“Would you all sit down?!” Peske answered hotly. “I don’t need an army.”

“I’m coming,” Tyler said defiantly.

“Fine,” Peske snorted and started down the stairs. “Bring my half-breed!”